


What Has Been Won

by Sparkleymask



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Game(s), spoilers for Trespasser dlc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6196345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparkleymask/pseuds/Sparkleymask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Not a chance, ma’am,” he had said. It had been a lie.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Has Been Won

“Not a chance, ma’am,” he had said. It had been a lie.

It had been a lie because he had felt himself hesitate, had felt the tug of a long-discarded duty on his mind and body, instructing them to fight, as if they were not his own; as if they still belonged to the Qun, not to himself. In that split second’s hesitation, there had been a chance.

The compulsion had passed, he had stood his ground. He knew where his loyalties lay. He had not felt seriously conflicted about his exile for a long time.

Still, there had been a chance.

He had been aware of Dorian beside him, just at the edge of his vision. Even as he listened to Viddasala, as he hesitated, as he gave his answer - he had been aware of him, and was sure he felt him tense.

But there was no reason to assume Dorian had noticed him hesitate, or had guessed the cause of it. Indeed, he had never been given any reason to believe that Dorian did not trust him completely. He might have been more comfortable knowing Dorian doubted him. Certainly he did not have such blind faith in himself.

He could have taken a step back and swung his axe before Dorian even had the chance to realise what was happening. Dorian could have died with that misplaced trust intact.

“Never better, kadan,” he had said.

That had been a lie too, but one he was fairly sure Dorian had noticed. The softness of his response, that achingly gentle sincerity he only usually revealed when they were alone, as if he could perhaps have some idea what the battle had meant to Bull.

He couldn’t, of course. He couldn’t have realised how Viddasala’s order had pulled at him, and still called him _amatus_.

He had faced Bull as he spoke, within touching distance but not touching, one hand clasped tightly round his staff and the other clenched at his side like he was consciously having to hold it there, like he wanted to reach out but thought Bull might shatter if he made contact.

If he had known that Bull had considered killing him, if only for a moment, he may have been less conflicted.

All those times Dorian had told him, in the weeks after he became Tal-Vashoth, that he would not go mad without the Qun, all those soft-sighed words, all those tender touches, trying to convince him that he was not capable of the atrocities he had always believed his new status made inevitable.

He was good, Dorian had told him, again and again. His mind was his own. He knew Bull would never hurt him. He trusted him. He loved him.

What a fool Dorian was for believing it. What a fool Bull was for allowing himself to be convinced.

Later, much later, Dorian asked him about it. Bull was surprised; he had assumed that even if Dorian had suspected, he would never bring it up.

“Did you want to obey her?” he said, quiet but firm, matter-of-fact, and he pushed himself up on his elbows so he could see Bull’s face as he replied.

“No,” Bull said, and it wasn’t a lie. Not really. He hadn’t wanted to.

Dorian studied his face, and perhaps if he hadn’t trusted Bull so completely, he would have seen the unspoken caveats lying behind that simple answer.

After a long moment he nodded, then slid closer and rested his head against Bull’s shoulder.

Bull brought his arm around Dorian’s waist. “I love you,” he said.

That, at least, was the truth.


End file.
